My wonderful aunt Hermione told me tonight, "it would behoove you to watch what you say." Behoove? Who uses that? Ancient horses? "Rob, it would behoove you to wear some horseshoes." Is that where horse-bullying started? Why would you dredge up hate speech from the horse world to talk to your gorgeous and lovable niece?

I responded, "it would behoove you to trim your stache and pluck out the forbidden forest in your nose."

Just remembering that is like being caught peeing in the pool. I mean, seriously? SERIOUSLY!? Now, I've been sent to my room to think about my "rudeness." And man, all I can say is, that was the best I could come up with?!?! Lily Luna Potter, that was TERRIBLE! I am ashamed to think that I actually said that super-obvious and dumb retort. That stunk as bad as my dad's socks after a supposed 'friendly' Quidditch match with his friends.

Cue bury head in pillow.

Shame.

To say I am a dramatic type would be like saying Rose Weasley is merely tall. (She has **officially!** broken six feet.) Honest to god, I love drama like I loved my mama as a baby. I love gossip, I love crying until my mascara bleeds and public break-ups, I love yelling in the Great Hall and having a terrific cat fight. (I keep my nail a wee bit sharper than normal just in case. Because it never ever hurt anyone to win a cat-fight.)

I can't imagine what life would be like without drama. How do people survive? It's soooooo boring. Just sitting here, alone, is sooooooooooo freaking stupid. Imagine poking your fingers together over and over. Doo doo doo Imma a stupid ape.

That must be what my introverted brother Albus does all the time when he asks for an oppurtunity to "reflect."

"I hate you auntie," I groaned to the ceiling of Rose's room. I could just imagine Rosie, the family goodie-two-shoes chatting about her latest OWL, and how round that perfect o was. Oh my gaaawwwdd. I'm gonna be an auror and I'm gonna break seven feet and everyone loves me!

And none of my dimwitted brothers were going to save me. Albus was probably humming some famous composer's symphony (wolfgang. they're all named wolfgang) and looking as goddamn handsome as ever, or, "reflecting." James, well, he might rescue me were he not distracted with Jamie Erikson and her own O's. That girl just annoyed me with the way she breathed. It was like a two massive eagles trying to take off from her chest with every breath. One time, I saw her breathing hard. I swear her boobs have a mind of their own. Not to mention muscle and consciousness.

Who cares. At least she's not single and lying alone in the freaking bedroom on a summer night.

Moaning to myself, I considered beating the floor miserably or perhaps having a good cry. It would take a great deal of snot to stain this carpet, but I was game to give it a shot. I just had to think of something very, very sad. Like kittens calling for their mom.

Or Jimmy Radice breaking up with me. Oh boy.

I hate my life. He was so amazingly cute and adorable. Like a sexy puppy. And he was an amazing kisser. He could be a professional snogger. Honestly.

I miss him sooooooo much. Oh my gawd.

I hate my life.

Maybe I could escape this hellhole.

Ah-ha. A window lay open.

After savoring my brilliant epiphany with a prizewinning smile and a flirtatious wink (**oh, lookie here at our Lily, she won't let that hag stop her spirit!) to the mirror, I ransacked Rose's closet.

I'll give you a confession: sometimes, (ok, all the time,) I fancy myself to be on a reality show. I can practically hear the commentators in my head cheering me on.

***What will that Lily try on for her midnight escape? Perhaps that green dress, show off some of her world-famous legs?***

Instead, I went with a white and pink striped one. I looked a bit like a peppermint in Rose's mirror, but there's nothing wrong with peppermints, right? I mean, I have absolutely no objections to peppermints. If a boy smelled like peppermints, I might snog him. No, I definitely would. Especially if it was Jimmy, because, as I mentioned, he was an amazing snogger.

I decided against Rose's monster-sized shoes (aha! sasquatch hasn't been visiting the Weasley property!) and stuck with my strappy white heels. Being the fashionista I am, I spent the better half of ten minutes striking poses in the mirror. I may or may not have made some questionable cat growls.

****By god, she's done it again! And I must say, she is pulling it off!***

I fixed my makeup and brushed out my red wavy hair before clumsily exiting the room. I looked pretty good. Not going to lie. Then again, a girl can always look good with enough makeup, hair down, short dress, and the twins getting some sunshine.

"Shit shit shit shit" I muttered to myself as I looked at the drop from the roof to the grass. My language has really gotten a bit fouler since my first year. I blame the cut nerve. It was a pretty long drop.

I HATE MY LIFE.

"Here goes," I thought as I prepared to take the leap. Luckily my jump wasn't in view of the dining room.

"ARGH!"

With a strangled cry, I propelled myself in the air and gracefully landed on all fours like a sexy cat.

Haaaaaaaa……….. (wince) I actually did a thrashing remake of the belly flop onto a (thankfully) lush pile of grass.

"This is it," I wheezed, writhing in pain. I could just imagine the cameras zooming in. "This" --gasp, painful glance towards sky-- "is the end of Lily Potter."